Erase: Rewind: Replay
by Poptasticdanceability
Summary: Following an aborted solo mission, Ianto Jones forgets his entire life. Jack tries to put him back together with Martha's help, while Gwen picks up the trail Ianto left. Set between series 2 and 3. Follows cannon pairings. All hail our glorious BBC.
1. Chapter 1

Then he becomes self aware.

The world is cold, the air damp.

He moves his head and it echoes, vision blurs images together. His head moves once and the world heaves to one side like a ship onto rocks. Or a car skidding on ice off the road. There are people talking but they make no sense. Because they make no sound. They make no sense. Their noises are not. They do not reach him but he knows that they are there.

They are there.

And he knows in all this unintelligible confusion that something is very wrong. And their blurs and un-noises are just beyond him and he cannot reach although he knows they are there.

Screaming into the night. Because whatever may have gone before wasn't this. This isn't right. There must have been more than this.

Screaming hurts more. But he knows he's making the noise. He knows his thoughts can connect through his brain into a conscious action. It seemed like an obvious revelation as he screamed but he didn't know it until he started. Because the world rolls over and over and sounds warp because his brain no longer has the ability to process this information properly.

And one of them puts a needle in his arm. Of course, he has arms. His arms are there. And he can't scream anymore, which is terrifying. The pain is gone, but he can't tell them anything else. They are there. He cannot understand much more than that, but they are there.


	2. Chapter 2

Ianto Jones looked left. Then right. Then left again.

Split second decisions were a bit of a problem for him. Now if he had an hour and no resources he could have come up with a daring elaborate plot that would have made Professor Moriarty look like an amateur. But he didn't have an hour. He didn't have a minute. After what he'd seen and the fact that several alarms were going off he had exactly no time.

Decide. Jump or run. He looked out the window. Twenty feet. He could make twenty feet. Fine. No problem. There were ample bags of rubbish to land on. Running meant left or right. And getting into a fight. Almost undoubtedly. He had his gun but not the extra clip. That gave him eight shots. After that he could get... well. He could take down maybe three. On a good day. And that was fighting dirty. Then he might get caught. And then what? Interrogation? Worse... with what he'd just seen. No. He had to get away. No matter what. He couldn't let it happen again.

He tried his blue tooth. Still jammed. That was deliberate. They didn't want their secret getting out, but they knew people would be getting in.

Y'know. Indecision was a major handicap for this job.

Run or Jump? Jump or run?

He wished Jack was here.

Fuck it.

He shielded his head with his arms and rammed himself through the glass.

Head first. Falling and then landing and splitting open several bags of rubbish. A shout echoes over the flat lay of the land. He rolls over, looks up and sees a face at the window he just exited from.

Up. Get up. He thought twenty feet would be fine. But it was disorientating as hell. Ianto rolled off the bags, onto his feet and started running across the industrial estate

They were behind him. Had to run, just run. Don't look behind, just run. But he had to know. He looked behind.

Five of them. All taller and heavier built than him. He halts, pivots and fires his gun once over their heads. Warning shot. It might work.

And as he starts to run again they slow down. Still moving fast enough to be convincing, but they'll never catch him. Someone's not paying them enough to get shot on the job. Granted neither is he. He crawled through the hole he made in the fence about twenty minutes previously, jumped the gate and snagged his trousers on barbed wire. That's another suit Jack owes him.

Someone tried to pile on top of him, but Ianto shoved his gun into their face. It's was a security guard in his fifties. He started backing off, paled at the sight of the semi-automatic and Ianto nearly apologised. Shaking off the daze, he got up and started running again. Got to get out of there. Got to tell Jack- he taps his Bluetooth again. This time it hisses to life.

He sprints to the end of the road, empty at this time of night. There are no street lights, but he can see the wider city not far ahead. He can run and hide in its anonymity, find cover in the streets and shelter in the mass of drunken students and other binge drinkers until he's safe, seventy feet under the oval basin.

"Jack."

It takes the Bluetooth a moment for the voice recognition to kick in and put him through.

"Ianto." Jack said cheerfully, rolling the vowels around his tongue. Ianto couldn't help but feel a smile pushing its way out. Hearing Jack softened the last few minutes, but he didn't stop running. "Where the hell are you?" Jack continued.

"Are you in the hub?" Ianto gasped out, still running at full pelt. Rain started to lash down.

"Yeah, me and Gwen just got back. What's going on?

Still running. He can see civilisation in the distance. He'll be safe on the main roads. Too many people. No-one'd make a grab for him there. "Right. Don't send Gwen home. We might have to move quickly."

Jack didn't like the sobriety of his tone. In Ianto's mind's eye Jack straightened up and started listening. "What did you find?"

The rain was cold. Even the sweat on Ianto's back was an icy trickle down his spine. He thought about coffee and dry clothes, and not about the fact that as soon as he got in the hub he'd have to be out again before he'd even caught his breath. Still. It was nice to dream.

"Can't tell you over the phone. I was getting jammed earlier, they might be listening."

"Right I can track you, do you want me to pick you up?" It was weird when Jack went all business. Then again, was it ever possible to be all business? Even through his attempt at professionalism, Ianto could hear it was the same tone as "I'd like to strip you naked."

Ianto glanced backward but didn't dare slow. If he stopped and waited for Jack to come and get him it'd provide ample opportunity to get picked off. Street lights were so close now, but even their safety wouldn't slow him. "No. I can't stop. I'll be back in twenty. If you don't hear from me..."

"Be careful."


	3. Chapter 3

Then a gap, memory error. 404. Missing piece. Then suddenly:

Blind.

It's not that he can't see. It's that the images don't make sense. It takes so long for his brain to realise what any item in his line of vision is; he has no chance of relating it to anything else. Like a smokescreen, a fog, a haze. He rubs his eyes as if it'll make a difference. His arms aren't as connected as they were. They're harder to move, his legs are a long way down. Ianto wobbled before sliding down the wall behind him. He couldn't balance. He wanted to put his head down and sleep. But then he'd die. Or as good as.

Someone was shouting his name a million miles away. But he couldn't hear them through the blood pulsing in his ears.

* * *

In the hub, Jack paced. Gwen had watched Ianto waiting for Jack in assumedly similar circumstances, yet Ianto always found something to do. Something to clean or tidy. Notes to type, weapons to prime and a hundred and one other things to keep his mind occupied. But Jack paced and looked at his watch.

"He's late." Jack growled.

"It's only five minutes. Jack." She replied, trying to help him get perspective. Five minutes wasn't that long. Not in people time. In police time it was forever. Long enough to get hit by a car, stabbed, mugged, attacked, raped and a multitude of other night time terrors. But she couldn't tell Jack that.

"If Ianto says twenty minutes, he means twenty minutes." Jack was right Precision was Ianto's specialty. He paced over to one of the screens where Gwen was stood and asked her, "Where is he?"

She punched into the keyboard and the screen brought forth of a map of the bay area with a blip on it. "Phone tracker says Lloyd George Avenue." She looked closer at the map. "He's stopped. Just off Magretion Place. Opposite the tower blocks on Loudon Square."

They looked at each other, mirroring expressions.

"For how long?" He asked.

"Three minutes." She gulped.

Jack started to run towards the circular door. "Get the SUV. Drive down the wrong side of the carriageway if you have to, I'm going on foot."

Out into the rain. Running. How did he get within spitting distance of safety and have something happen to him?

* * *

He couldn't see. Couldn't see. It was all too far away. Couldn't move. Wanted to sleep. But then- there was Jack. He was here, and Ianto could see him. His arm flailed out for him. He felt Jack grab his hand.

"It's O.K. I'm here. Look at me. Look at me Ianto. "

"Retcon."

It's his voice, but he sounds so strange. It slurs horribly, like he's had a stroke.

"Ianto-"

He tried again to say it but the letters don't form properly. Jack has hold of him with both hands, he shakes his head as Ianto tried to tell him again. "Ianto, I can't understand you."

Jack couldn't figure it out. It wasn't just the bruising round the mouth. A split lip didn't leave people slurring like that. If he'd hit his head there'd be more blood, even if it was clear he'd been punched in the face more than once.

He wants to slump to the ground but Jack won't let him. The voice says it again. "Retcon."

A hand dashes away and grabs the container lying discarded a few feet away. It's empty.

Jacks hands on his face, he almost sounds angry. "How many? Do you know how many?"

"Twenty five." Clearer now, it took a lot of effort just to be understood. Ianto had counted, he knew it was important to count. He vomited and the count went below twenty. Still enough to render him a vegetable.

"O.K. Come on, time to go." Jack pulled him upward but it was useless. A soon as any of his weight was shifted from Jack he fell back down. Jack's voice changed, he barked at him, well it worked on shocked soldiers in WW2. "On your feet. Now. Come on."

Groggy. So impossibly groggy. Like being so drunk he'd have to crawl home. "Jack-"

Jack had hold of him, pulling him by the shoulders roughly. "Tell me why you went out there."

Ianto can thinks that Jack has vastly underestimated the situation. That he doesn't really know how bad this is. As far as Ianto's concerned this is the end, and his composure disintegrates into panic with his next words. "I can't- I can't see."

Legs fail. If could feel his knees or even knew where they were Ianto was sure they were bruised from hitting the floor that hard. He starts to fall further down but Jack hauls him back up. "No. No."

He's limp, like a ragdoll kicked around the floor. He wants to lie down more than anything. He can barely hold his own head up. Jack's still talking. Hauling him upright in his arms.

"Come on, tell me what you found or this is all for nothing. Open your eyes. Damn you open your eyes!"

He obeys, and he's looking up at Jack. He's so glad he's here. But the words stop forming. They fall apart.

And Jacks voice is soft again. "Stay with me. You gotta tell me now because you won't remember."

But he couldn't. And if he could have told Jack anything, what he found on the industrial estate was not top of the list. He could feel a tremor starting to run through him.

And then he didn't care. He didn't care about anything. He just wanted to lie down and fade away. Ianto's eyes closed. There was no point keeping them open. He couldn't see anyway. Even Jack was just a blur now. Shaking now, and not with the cold.

"No. No. Stay with me." Jack slaps him round the face as gently as the situation will allow. "I need you to stay with me."

But it was already black.


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn't human.

Whatever it was, it didn't have a soul. Not like he did. If he believed in souls, he wasn't sure.

He studied it, and it studied him back before letting out something between a moan and a wail. It had an animals' skin and monsters' teeth. And from the other side of the glass it watched him. It wasn't like he was, but it had sad eyes.

Could it be sad? It did sound like it.

There was more than that in the glass. He was reflected. That was his face, lightly overlaid on top of the creatures. At least he thought that was him. It didn't seem unfamiliar but-

"There you are."

He turned to see a man with dark hair and perfect features. He sounded American and wore braces over his shirt. Red braces. Red didn't go with the shirt. The man crossed over to him and put his hand on his shoulder, smiling slightly all the time. "What are you doing down here?"

He looked over to the man, he seemed... he didn't know. Almost familiar. " I don't know." He answered him.

"Do you know where you are?"

He shook his head in reply.

The man nodded his head. Then step forward and touched him on the shoulder. He pointed to the thing behind the glass. "What about that? Do you know what that is?"

"Alien?" It seemed a more reasonable guess than monster. It seemed to be correct because the man smiled at him, and gripped his shoulder a little more.

"Good. We should get you back upstairs. You need to rest."

He let himself be steered along, he had no idea where he was going. As they reached a door he looked the man up and down. There was something, he didn't quite know. "Do I know you?"

The man stopped, and stood opposite him."Do you?"

He looked him up and down. There was something familiar. But... he couldn't think of it. And he was chilled when he realised that the face looking at him hopefully, was more familiar than his own.

"I'm not sure I know who _I_ am."

The man smiled bleakly, slipped an arm over his shoulder and started walking him through corridors.

* * *

"Got him."

Jack emerged from the lower levels, walking with his arm across Ianto's shoulder. He steered him towards the lab. Martha saw how he looked around, trying to find anything familiar.

She smiled when he looked at her. He smiled back shyly. He clearly had no idea who she was. "Thank god for that." She started as Ianto sat on the table. "I didn't fancy having to go out there look for you."

Gwen appeared at the top of the lab, she'd been running around the vaults with Jack searching for him and looked flushed. "Are you OK, Ianto?"

It took a moment. Martha saw that. Oh god. It took a moment for him to realise who she was talking to.

And then he looked right at her. Ianto's eyes met Martha's and she could see him connecting things gradually. He knew he should know who they were. He knew this wasn't right.

"No." He shook his head. He looked around, he was trying. He was so lost and looking for anything familiar. Jack put a hand on his shoulder.

"Martha, could you-" Jack started but trailed off.

She nodded. He couldn't wander off if he was unconscious. "Alright. I'm just going to give you something to let you sleep."

Picking up the needle off the tray side she saw Ianto's eyes fix on it. "I hate needles," he murmured almost thoughtlessly. That was an interesting thing to retain.

"I know you do." She smiled." Just don't look."

The needle went in. Ianto looked the other way and Jack put his other hand to his shoulder. And as Martha took the needle out he started to slip away.

Jack lowered him, smoothed his hair and then stood back.

Silence.

Jack thought about what he was going to say, and then edited out the offensive language before he actually spoke." Next time can we keep an eye on him?"

" I'm sorry," Gwen said as Jack brushed past her out of the lab. "I was only gone a minute."

"Where was he?" Martha asked, following Jack.

'Downstairs looking at weevils." Jack sighed and stopped as he got to the coffee machine. "We were lucky he was only looking."

"Why did he go down there?" asked Gwen.

Without turning to them, Jack shrugged. "I don't know. He just seemed lost. I think he just wandered in."

Stepping forward, Martha tried to be comforting. "Jack, he's better than he was."

Then he turned to them, slamming his coffee cup down."He doesn't know anything. He's blank." If Martha listened closely enough she could hear Jacks voice crack a little. "He doesn't know who we are- hell he doesn't know who he is."

" He'll get better." Gwen said quietly. He had too didn't he?

"What if he doesn't?" Jack started, his voice becoming overwhelmed with harshness. " Have you thought about that? He can't remember more than thirty minutes ago." He stopped and blinked. Like the pause was needed to turn sadness into rage. "He'll need full time care," he continued bleakly. "We'll have to put him a home. Twenty five and in a nursing home!"

Leaving his coffee Jack went over to the sofa and collapsed back on it, before leaning forward and bowing his head. He looked so tired, but he turned that into anger as well. "Why the hell did he have Retcon on him in the first place? We have rules about just carrying that around for a damn good reason!"

Not put off by the shouting, Gwen perched on the sofa next to him. "He signed it out that morning for the Hoix in the Penarth. He never got back here to return it."

Martha stood away, wondering how long until Jack calmed down again and would seem to stop having emotions. "Jack, you have to give it time."

"It's been three days." He replied without looking at her.

" And in that time he's regained motor and speech function." She continued. She tried not to take Jack's negativity as a reflection on her ability at her vocation. "Maybe we should try another dose."

"I dunno." He said, quieter now. Part of Martha wondered if he'd settled on having a bad result and couldn't have his opinion shifted.

Gwen spoke up as he looked at her. "Jack, we know the drug works."

" A small dose." Martha added, trying to talk Jack round. "It might give him enough of a push."

Jack had been about to reply when a bell which had been installed sometime in the late 1890's started to ring. It was an old style butlers bell, but the writing had worn away to indicate where the noise came from.

"What's that?" Gwen looked around for the source of the noise.

" Doorbell" Jack murmered, staring at his feet.

She thought about it for a moment. She must've been getting ditzy with lack of sleep. "We have a door bell?"

"On the tourist office." He replied with a silent implication she was an idiot. Martha might have laughed at that, but could see the strain on both of them.

Either Gwen didn't notice his tone or chose to ignore. "Oh, I'll see who it is." Then disappeared past the revolving door.

* * *

Rhys pressed the doorbell again. At first he thought this had been a ploy to get out of a weekend with his parents, but as it was now Monday and Gwen had been here all weekend he stood corrected. Still, he hadn't seen his wife for more than ten minutes at a time, and while Gwen had dug her heels in and tried to get out of getting away with him and his parents, He'd looked forward to it. He couldn't wait to spend some time with her, even if he had to put up with him Mum nagging about Grandchildren again.

"I mean what last name are you giving your children anyway? I don't see why you got married if she doesn't want your last name."

Well, at least they'd been spared that. He'd just started to press the doorbell again, when bolts slid back and Gwen opened the door into the winter air.

"Rhys, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work?"

He half smiled at his wife, she looked knackered but still lovely. "Shouldn't you have been at home last night?" He chided just a little.

"Things got crazy here." She said pulling him inside the tourist office and out of the cold.

"Yeah, I thought they might've." Rhys smiled. He'd already known what she'd say, and could see them having a fight about it under other circumstances." You could have called love."

"Sorry." She said quietly.

Bloody hell. He got an apology out of her that easily. She must've been exhausted.

"I know you were really looking forward to seeing your folks." She continued as Rhys started slipping his arms around her. She was cold, he could feel that.

"I could have gone on my own." He admitted." I just wanted to get some time with you though." She smiled at that, secretly glad Rhys hadn't really wanted to spend a lot of time with his parents. "So how is he?"

She shook her head. "Not very good. And Jack's so bloody negative, that doesn't help."

Yes, well. Of course Jack wouldn't be in good shape, Rhys thought. After all, that was the reason he'd been deprived of his wife for the last few days. "Well, it must be hard on him love-"

"I know." She sighed and put her forehead to his shoulder. "But it's Jack. He's not supposed to give up."

"What does Martha say?"

Gwen moved her head back, feeling Rhys arms wrap right around her. She closed her eyes for a moment, wondering if she could go to sleep standing up, her head buried into Rhys' shoulder. "She's either optimistic or putting a brave face on it. I don't know which yet."

Rhys ran a hand through her hair, wishing he could be of more use. "You got time for breakfast?"

She raised her head and looked up at him. She looked so tired he had half a mind to throw her over his shoulder and try and take her home. Of course though, Rhys knew no man would try that and live. "Don't you have to be at work?" She yawned.

"I'm the manager, I gave myself the morning off." He smiled before admitting. "I ended up going in on Saturday as well."

She smiled then, tired and fed up but still so glad to see him.

"Alright. I'll just grab my coat."


	5. Chapter 5

TO: Harkness, Jack

FROM: Harper, Owen

CC: Costello, Suzie

DATE: 13/08/07

SUBJECT: Stop nagging me, Here's the bloody report.

Alright Captain, as this is in a rush and I'd like to get out of here sometime before I turn thirty, these are the basics. Having looked at my predecessors note on Ret-Con trials (by the way, morally dubious, Jack) it explains our lack of clear results on the anti-retcon drug (can we just call it Re-Call, I think it's catchier than luminous radioactive looking shit). Anyway, from what data I have got, the drug is effective, although why we'd need it I can't imagine. We won't be retconning people lightly, and anyone feeling the need to Ret-con OD will certainly not want to remember. Might as well let them get on with it.

In percentages, about 90-ish percent of memory was regained for small recton doses. Less for larger doses. Time between drug being administered and optimum memory recall varied from 48- 120 hours. Had some luck with giving larger amount of Recall(Nope- that's it, we're calling it that) to regain memory, but side effects started showing. Should be able to minimise this through trialling secondary and tertiary doses if you really feel the need. But I'm not duping people into being test subjects. Hippocrates would not be pleased. At least pay willing test subjects like any other disreputable drugs firm.

I did actually start this earlier on paper, but new boy felt the need to spill coffee all over it. Seriously Jack, do we need a full time tea boy? Couldn't have made it a tea girl could you?

Alright, I'm off. If I don't come in tomorrow assume I had a good night.

* * *

"Cheers for that Owen," Martha thought to herself as she re-read the email that had taken 6 hours for the hub computer to locate. "That's almost totally useless." Sometimes she wished she still had unfettered access to a time machine, she'd love to go back and tell Owen to write more comprehensive notes, or improve his hand writing. It would probably be more prudent to warn him about bullets though.

The atmosphere in the hub had been weird. Gwen kept smiling, but was trying far too hard at keeping everything calm. Jack varied from being overwhelmingly angry to emotionally plateaued. He'd had that eerie calm about him when he called her. Just going over what had happened. Honestly, she preferred him shouting and screaming to standing there with his arms folded and totally unreadable.

And Ianto hadn't even looked like Ianto when she'd walked in. He'd been out cold and wearing sweatpants and t-shirt. He looked so strange out of a suit. The black eye didn't help. The image didn't leave her. The sight of him laid out and unresponsive, and Jack cleaning him up. Wiping the traces of blood away.

She looked over at Jack now, he was sat on the sofa rubbing his eyes. He hadn't moved or spoken since Gwen went out. Finally she got up, and put herself down next to him.

"So you never trialled secondary doses then?" She asked, realising how odd that was as a conversation starter.

"No." He shrugged sitting forward." It was just one of those side projects that never got picked up. I tried getting Owen to go at it again but, life just kinda got in the way."

"Well... just as well." She said, "All his handwritten stuff is..."

Jack smiled a moment, knowing that despite Owen's general brilliance, his handwriting had never left primary school. "Yeah."

They paused. It was difficult, she wanted to find something comforting to say to Jack but- it was hard to think of anything.

"Tish- she sends her love." Martha finally said after about thirty seconds.

Jack looked at her then, and there was a weak smile. "How is she?" He'd rather not think about the time he'd spent with Martha's sister. About how she spoon fed him every day for a year but was always forbidden from talking to him. About how she used to cry.

 ** _"Don't cry Tish. You're the highpoint of my day. Come on, don't give it to him."_**

Martha saw where his brain took him, so carried on with what she was saying quickly. "She's O.K. Considering."

"Yeah." He picked up Martha's hand. He wished he could have done more for Tish. "You know, she could've come with you. I mean, if she wanted to." He thought it through as Martha smiled bleakly. Of course Tish didn't want to see him. All she'd want to do was forget. "I guess not. After what we went through, I wouldn't want to see me either."

"You wanna hear something funny?" Martha said.

"Sure." He shrugged, wondering what could have been funny about any of that.

"Tish thought you made him up."

He looked at Martha blankly as she broke out into a wide smile.

"What?" he laughed, slightly confused.

"Well, she said you talked about Torchwood a lot. But... you were apparently quite graphic when you talked about Ianto."

And then he laughed. And Martha laughed as well. Jacks laugh was infectious, although this was more of a chuckle.

"Oh. Well... the conversation was a little one sided. I got carried away," he admitted, still chuckling about some of the things he'd disclosed.

"She just thought he was a distraction. When I got back from visiting you lot last time and mentioned him she almost screamed the house down."

He smiled as he stopped laughing. It was nice to know that all those hours of one sided exchanges had made a difference.

Martha looked over at him. She thought about how Jack had used the thought of his team to sustain him through the worst. That he'd clung to the idea of them and even tried to give hope using that idea. But now Tosh and Owen were gone- and Ianto was-

"So are you gonna-" he started and trailed off.

"Yeah. I'll have to guess at a dose size." She really wished Owen had left better notes.

Jack patted her hand and stood up. "Don't make it too small. I don't wanna get landed with a teenager."

She smiled and went back to the lab as Jack reached into his pocket to answer his ringing mobile.


	6. Chapter 6

The eggs had long congealed as Gwen pushed them around her plate. She imagined her brain probably looked much the same. It certainly felt like it had been scrambled and overcooked. It wasn't that she wasn't listening to Rhys, it was just she couldn't concentrate on what he was saying. So bloody tired.

"Anyway, I said to him; Sorry mate. But if you've got points you can't drive for us. And he said good luck finding anyone else to do it on a Saturday. So I told him he wasn't covered by the insurance and- am I boring you love?"

"No." She replied much too quickly considering the mundane topic of conversation.

"And by no you mean yes." He smiled playfully. Petty as he liked to be on occasion, now was not the time. "I've studied Women you see. Quite thoroughly for about the past decade. Go on then. What have you been up to?"

She shifted in the chair. The table wobbled on its uneven legs against the greasy lino of the cafe. "Nothing nice. More missing people." She mumbled, leaning onto her hand. If she could just shut her eyes for ten minutes she'd feel much better.

"Oh." Rhys intoned, slightly deflated.

"I'm not even sure this is a Torchwood matter." She shook her head and did her best not to yawn. "There's no rift spike and nothing odd. People just... vanish."

Tasting his coffee Rhys resisted the urge to spit it back into the cup and simply swallowed hard and placed the cup onto the table. He'd forgotten that the coffee at Desi's was always this bad. He should have gone with the tea. Tea was always a safe bet. Unless they used UHT milk. "But the police can't find anything?"

"No." She shifted in her chair again. It was sticky. How had she found the only sticky chair in a place this greasy? "The only thing they have in common is a transit van hanging around each location where they went missing from."

"So attack of the white van man is it?" He said, straight faced.

Gwen scowled back at him, "Not funny Rhys."

"Just trying to lighten the mood love." He said with an apologetic smile. Why did every conversation with her have to be the end of the world? "So what, no clues. No trail."

"Not that I can find. I've put the hub software to lookout for anything suspicious but- well. A lot of it hasn't worked properly since Tosh-"

She trailed off. And glanced at her feet for a moment. She'd just about gotten used to talking about them in the past tense, but occasionally when she'd say it out loud it would catch her.

She sighed and carried on. "Usually when I can't get it to work I ask Ianto to go and have a word with the server."

"He'll be alright though." Rhys replied almost dismissively.

"I hope so. I can't cope with Jack this miserable."

Reaching out, Rhys touched his wife's hand. There were a few hundred things he'd like to have said to her. But it all seemed to pale against her working life problems. How could he ever say anything to make any of this better? She stared at the floor, miserable and so different from the woman he fell in love with. But she was in there. She just took time to surface on occasions like these.

Then she looked up at him. And it was the sight of him that made her smile. And moments like that made him wonder how the hell she'd chosen him over the other men in her life.

"Take me home." She smiled sleepily.

He had been about to reply when Gwen's phone suddenly rang. She looked at the caller ID before answering her it.

"Hi Martha," She managed to say before her expression dropped. "What? What do you mean gone?"

Typical. Rhys thought. Bloody typical Torchwood.

"Well where? Did he say?" Gwen was shaking her head and looking annoyed. "Oh that man can be such a Muppet at times! Captain bloody Chaos."

Rhys wondered if he should go and start the car now.

"No. Ok .I don't know. I'll let you know as soon as I do."

She hung the phone us and stood up, pushing the chair backwards and reaching to the back of it for her jacket. "Jack's gone. Didn't say where. He just got a phone call and pissed off."

"Oh dear." Rhys managed to say.

"Every time." She continued with her rant. "Every time we have a bloody great big crisis and need him he just runs away. He's about as much use as fireproof matches."

As she pulled her jacket on her phone started to ring again.

"What? Who? Andy is that you?"

Rhys couldn't believe it. So much for being the man in her life.

"What? He's what?"

She looked over at Rhys, somewhere between puzzled and shocked. "I'll be right there."

* * *

The kid in the cell looked nervous. More nervous than being found with stolen goods. He was very young. He couldn't be more than 17. There were another 7 of them. All varying in age, football hooligans. Scum of the earth. Rugby never caused this type of shit. The worst thing Jack had got off a blues fan was hug from a seven foot guy from Blackwood. These kids were just racist homophobic scum. And Jack's blood boiled a little. And what was worse, he'd seen the full CCTV footage. Punches, kicks, pack animal rage. The white van that drove past and didn't even have the decency to stop. And any thoughts of handling this in a reasonable manner had fled.

Barry Jenkins didn't make eye contact as the man in the coat entered the interview room. He wasn't a copper. That was clear. He was dressed like a guy from world war two. What the hell? Weird. The man in the coat turned the chair across the table from Barry around and slung himself over it, putting the back of the chair between them.

"You're in a lot of trouble, Barry." The voice was soft. American. There was an edge of restraint. Barry didn't feel so safe. Too many Guantanamo stories made him nervous. "Start talking."

"I's don't have to say nothin' without a lawyer."

A piece of paper fell in front of Barry. It gave him a bad feeling, he knew he wouldn't like what it said.

"Do you know what that says?"

Barry shook his head, getting the feeling this guy wanted to rip his limbs out.

"That's the official secrets act." The man in the coat continued. "That says I can lock you in a black hole until I see fit to let you go."

"But-"

"No lawyers. No visiting rights. No appeal. No Bail. No Jury. NO Judge. Just you and me. In a room, until you talk. So come on Barry."

Barry looked at the paper. It looked real. It was signed by the home office. Shit. Nervous, he stayed silent. The man in the coat sighed with impatience.

"We got the gun back, and the wallet. But we need the phone and the PDA. Where are they?"

"I don't know."

"THAT'S NOT- what I want to hear." The man in the coat half shouted the sentence before thinking better of it. "What happened, Barry? Did you sell them? Did you give them to a friend to hold onto?"

"I don't know."

Before Barry had finished the sentence the man in the coat grabbed hold of him and slammed his head against the table. Barry cried out as the table top met with his temple. He tried to push the man away but he grabbed Barry's arms and held them behind his back. He cuffed him. Then slammed his head on the table again.

"Didn't you think it was strange the gun had no serial number? That the wallet didn't bother him but he really didn't want to part with the PDA? You didn't even think to ask what the pills were?"

"Get off me!" He shouted, hoping for once in his life that the cops would come running. This guy was right nutter.

"Who did it Barry? Did you all have a go or did you just stand back while you're mates had a laugh?"

"He started it!" Barry shouted as defiantly as he could while concentrating on not pissing himself.

The man in the coat slammed his head onto the table again. "Don't lie to me Barry. I get really pissed off when people lie to me. "

"He did though," Barry protested. The man's grip on his collar loosened. "He was twitchy and looking over his shoulder, then he walked right into Sam. And he bloody meant to."

The man in the coat absorbed this for a second and then reasserted his grip. "So a guy walks into you, then you try and kill him. Reasonable reaction Barry. So go on. Who picked up the gun? Cos at the moment you're all culpable."

"It was Sol. He held the gun to him. I never made him take no pills."

That would be enough wouldn't it? It was the truth. Barry had punched the guy. Once. Not that hard neither. But Sol went crazy when he found the gun. He was waving it around and clicking it. Sol always was a bit of a psycho.

"Did you tell him to stop? Did you ask him to put the gun down?" The guy in the coat seemed to be driving Barry's head into the table.

"No."

"You knew it might kill him but you didn't ask Sol to stop."

"I didn't think-" his voice cracked. He was more nervous about Sol turning around and shooting one of them for a laugh more than anything else.

"No Barry, your type never does."

The man in the coat reached into his pocket, then put a gun squarely in Barry's face.

"Oh my god,"

"Look at it!" The man shouted. Angry. Angry enough to kill him, like this? With the police outside. That piece of paper said he could.

"Don't shoot me!" Barry pleaded. His eyes watered.

"Look at the gun. There's no serial number- you know why?"

He shook his head as much as he could with it being held against the table. "No."

"Because the guy you attacked spends his life saving idiots like you from threats you can't begin to imagine. That's how you've put yourself in a whole heap of shit. Where's the phone and PDA?" He roared.

It bawls out, like a child admitting they did something wrong and begging for forgiveness. "I gave them to my brother to hold onto. He doesn't know they're nicked. Please, he's just a kid."

The man in the coat loosens his grip. His voice keeps his harsh edge. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"If I find he hasn't got them-"

"I swear." Tears leak into Barry's mouth. He can taste the salt. The man lets go of him. Barry pulls himself upright.

"Open your mouth."

He looked at the man, puzzled. What does he want now?

"I said- open- your- MOUTH."

Hands grab at Barry's face and his jaw is forced open. A pill goes on his tongue. Barry has a horrible feeling. The man in the coat holds his mouth shut.

"Swallow. Swallow it!"

With a painful gulp the pill went down Barry's dry throat. He felt strange right away.

"Are you scared?"

Tears formed as Barry nodded yes.

"Good. Try and make something of your life Barry Jenkins, I don't want to see you again."

The man in the grey coat slides out of view as Barry passed out into a blissful sleep on the table top.

Jack stepped out the cell and straightened himself. Gwen stepped forward as Jack let the cell door slam. "Gwen, PDA and Phone are with Jenkins younger brother. Go easy but get them back."

Ignoring the orders Jack had just given her Gwen ran behind him as he swept down the corridor like the shadow of vengeance. "Jack, you can't just keep beating people until you find out what happened."

"Funny, I've got a piece of paper that says I can. And you know it seems to be working."

"Jack-"

"No." He turned to her and cut off what she was going to say. "I don't need you to start telling me how to treat this scum. ASBO's, court orders, tagging. None of it works! These little sociopaths only understand one thing-"

"So what? You just act like they do?"

He didn't reply, just thundered away from her. He was going to get the bottom of this.


	7. Chapter 7

Aged Twenty Two.

Anyway. New Job. Absolutely mental. Indescribably so. Apparently I now catch aliens for a living. This is officially the craziest thing I've ever done. Including that car surfing incident.

So, first day. Show up, new suit. I get the tour. Canary Wharf is just a front. I mean the whole financial stuff that's supposed to be there- it's all a lie! Apparently it's really called "Torchwood Tower." I meet Yvonne Hartman, just a handshake etc. She is later described to me as "God almighty". Then we go down to the basement.

Yes. I work in the basement. But it's good. I don't really get to do a lot of alien catching. I get assigned to one of the scientists. Professor Howarth. He's a-grade eccentric, Cambridge graduate, insists on calling me "dear boy." So much for achieving manhood on moving to London. I wonder if he's gay.

So I type his notes, hand him test tubes and try and make him coffee. He complains, apparently my coffee leaves much to be desired. Other than that I go between all the labs and make sure everyone's getting reports out on time.

I get pranked and covered in purple goo by some of the other lab rats (company nickname). Jim who's JR (Junior researcher) in the lab next to me says everyone gets that. Just initiation. Apparently I took it well . I'm officially a lab rat now. A dubious honour if every I've heard one.

The whole thing leaves me flustered, and I show everyone how graceful I am in one of the corridors while running reports upstairs. We both walked into each other. Paper on the floor. A lot of sorrys and she passes me over a few sheets mixed up with her work. Then she looks me up and down and smiles. She's just- she's got one of those smiles that doesn't leave you. Ut oh. Thunderbolt.

Anyway, it's Friday. I'm officially accepted. So we all go to a bar on India Quays. There's already a group from Torchwood in there. Rich (Senior Researcher) shouts "typing pool" at them. They shout "Lab rats" back at us. This is mad. We catch aliens and have social cliques. We all squeeze onto one table. There must be fifteen of us. The "typing pool" (general admin) is mostly girls except for one snide looking guy with greasy hair. I'm skint so Rich goes off to buy me a drink.

"So where are you from?" A ginger girl called Rachael asks me.

"South Wales," I reply, and then it catches me.

Greasy Gary (as he's known in the typing pool) leans forward and smiles as he does the most mortifying thing in the world. "Ohhhhhh, Welsh are you boy-o? Met any good sheep lately"

Oh, a sheep joke. How original. How insulting, how borderline racist. I try and maintain the polite smile on my face but can't bring myself to laugh. This is an absolute social nightmare.

"Oh, nice Gary." A voice says and- she leans forward. I couldn't see her through everyone else. But it's her- the girl in the corridor. And she's not smiling.

"What's next Gary, got any black jokes?"

One of the girls mis-swallows her rum and coke and Jim slaps her on the back. They're both laughing. And not at me.

"If you're done being a tosser-." She smiles like butter wouldn't melt. But it would. God knows I would.

Gary shuts up and goes back to his Larger. I get up and start towards the bar to see where Rich has got to, when she joins me. "Sorry about him, he's an absolute nob."

"it's fine," I smile, trying to play it cool. She's just... gorgeous. And she's wearing a very short skirt. "Thanks though." I say.

"Well then you can buy me a drink." She smiles again. It's harder to talk when she smiles like that.

"I'm... pretty much broke until I get paid."

She retorts right away. O.K. she fancies me. Not a bad thing but- new job. Office politics. "Well then I'll buy you a drink."

"Rich is getting me one."

That was the gayest thing ever. I need to do better or she's going to be put off.

"Fine, you can take me back to yours and make me coffee."

Bloody hell. I'd like nothing better. I really would, but I don't want to jump into bed with a girl I've just met. Done that enough times. And got screwed over for it. And then again I don't want to put her off. She just dressed down one of her colleagues for me.

I smile and laugh a little, then lean forward and say quietly, "You're very forward."

She breaths in, I think that was me she was taking in, in an olfactory sense. This is very intense very quickly. "Always have been," she grins.

I'm so awkward. She's a woman, and I'm a slightly overgrown teenager. "My coffee isn't very good."

"Really?" She feigns surprise. "Well we'll have to sort that out. You'll never live it down."

Then her attention slips from me, and she shouts. God can she shout. All the way over to the bar. "ADDY! Bring your lot over! And get me a Mohito! Cheers!"

A black girl at the bar cups her ear and shakes her head.

Next to me corridor girl rolls her eyes. "Deaf as a moose," she commented. "Probably wearing that earpiece all day. Right, I better get it myself. You don't need a drink do you?"

I shook my head... but had half a mind to nod instead.

"Alright. I will see you later, but I do intend on getting pissed tonight." She starts to walk away and then stops. "Shit. Sorry, what's your name?"

Oh yes. Name. Didn't know hers. Better introduce myself. "Ianto Jones."

She shakes my hand and giggles. "Oh bless. You're properly Welsh aren't you? Mind you, that accent and those eyes'll see you a long way."

Ok. She fancies me. And I fancy her. That's good enough for me. Just need a name.

"I'm Lisa. Everyone knows me. I'm a social nexus. Anyway." She gives me my hand back and goes towards the bar, passing Rich on the way. They talk for a moment then Rich walks back towards me.

"There you go." He passes me the pint. I hate to think how much it cost in London prices. "So," he says "that was fast work."

* * *

There seemed to be an awful lot of noise. Ianto thought the people in the flat below must've been fighting again. Nothing unusual but he'd prefer they didn't while he was trying to sleep.

He opened his eyes. And was very surprised. This was not his flat. This wasn't anyone's flat. In fact, this looked like a medical bay. He lifted the blanket and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The argument seemed to be coming from an adjoining room.

He wandered barefoot up the tiled stairs gazing through the doorway and what lay beyond. A sofa in what looked like a converted tube tunnel that said "Torchwood," which to him explained a lot. Then a few desks covered in computers and related paraphernalia, and then, a vast chamber, cavern like with walkways and water dripping and pure amazement. He looked up. It must've been 70 feet. Wow. There was a room full of plants, an oriental looking dragon painted on one wall, rooms with glass frontage. Water flowing between walkways. Machinery humming and somewhere an animal like cry. And also a very human disagreement only a few feet in front of him.

"I mean what the hell were you thinking!" A woman with dark hair and a Swansea accent belted into the air. Swansea?

"I don't have to justify myself to you!" A strong jawed man yelled back in an American accent.

A pretty black girl in a lab coat stood on the sidelines looking like she wondering if she should intervene.

"No fine." Swansea girl retorted. "Carry on as you always have. Do whatever the fu-" She cut off as she caught sight of him.

They all turned and looked at him. Then the black girl approached. "Oh. You really shouldn't be up yet."

He made eye contact with the man, who stepped forward tentatively. "How are you feeling?"

"Erm... O.K?" Ianto replied, still taking in the sight of the room he was standing in.

Jack couldn't help but to think he sounded very bright, all things considered. He was even smiling a little shyly. "Do you know where you are?"

"Not exactly."

"You're in Torchwood Cardiff." The man replied.

Ianto nodded with comprehension. "There's a Torchwood in Cardiff?"

"You know about Torchwood?" Swansea girl spoke up.

"I work for them in London."

That information took a millisecond for the trio to absorb before the man smiled back at him again. "Good. Just checking. Your head's been really scrambled."

The black girl spoke, "What's your birthday Ianto?"

"Nineteenth of August." He answered without a flicker of hesitation.

"And how old will you be?" She followed up.

"Twenty three."

He saw something pass between the people stood in front of him, but they never managed to quite show exactly what they were thinking on their faces. The man smiled widely at him. "Good. You should get some sleep."

"Could I borrow a phone first? I just wanna call my girlfriend and tell her I'm O.K."

"Already done." The man smiled at him almost reflexive in expression and reply. The answer seemed too quick but... everything was... getting fuzzy.

He faltered and the man stepped forward and grabbed him. "O.K. Let's him back to bed. Martha, give me a hand."

He looked at the man, closely. There was something- something he couldn't explain. Something just beyond his minds reach. He knew he was missing something massive. "Do I know you?" He breathed. It wasn't a tentative question. It had the conviction of someone looking to claw back what they had lost.

The man nodded, giving the most honest exchange in the whole conversation.


End file.
